


A Kiss Can Be Deadlier

by Starbooks13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Community: norsekink, F/M, Mistletoe, overly-used Batman quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbooks13/pseuds/Starbooks13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Loki crashes a Christmas party and Natasha's in the mood for games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss Can Be Deadlier

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a Norsekink prompt asking for Loki and another character to do the Batman/Catwoman "mistletoe" exchange from Batman Returns, with Loki saying Catwoman's line.

                The sights and sounds of Stark Industries’ annual Christmas Eve extravaganza swirl around Natasha in a carousel of color and noise.  But even amidst all the glitz and clamor, Loki stands out.             

                Maybe it’s because she’s always watching for potential threats, her training keeping her constantly on the lookout.  Or maybe it’s because even in this gathering of wealthy, beautiful people he clearly outclasses everyone here.  He’s a prince, a god, and just from looking at him one can tell that he’s in a league of his own.  And he does look particularly handsome tonight, dressed in a black tux that is both inconspicuous and yet attention-grabbing. 

                For a moment, she’s able to observe him without being noticed.   But the moment doesn’t last long.  His green eyes find hers, and the corners of his mouth twitch slightly—just enough so that she notices.  Without warning, he vanishes, and she mentally curses.  While there is a chance he’s left the party, her instincts tell her he’s still there.  And where he goes, mischief always follows—the kind of mischief that no one wants to endure tonight.

                She turns to go search for Tony—it’s his party, after all, she should warn him first—and nearly runs into Loki.  He smirks, eyes glittering, before holding out a hand.  

                There are many things Natasha should have done at that moment.  She should have run, though she knows he would catch her if she did.  She should have screamed, yelled, made some sort of noise to warn the other Avengers that he was there.  She should have stabbed him in the heart with the knife strapped to her thigh, the steel a cool contrast to the warm silk of her dress.

                But for once, Natasha doesn’t do what she should.

                What she does is take his outstretched hand and allow him to lead her through the crowded ballroom out to the snow-covered gardens of the hotel Tony had rented for the party.  As they head outside, Natasha thinks she sees Thor staring at them, and isn’t sure whether to call out to him or keep walking.  She ends up biting her tongue and following Loki, curiosity getting the better of her.

                Once outside, Natasha shivers and belatedly wishes she’d had the sense to grab her coat.  The blade of the knife feels like a sharp icicle against her skin now.  Loki notices her shuddering and gently squeezes her hand.  Heat flows into her body, and Natasha almost thanks him before stopping herself.  No matter what bizarre impulse has caused her to follow him, he is still her enemy.  Even what appears to be an act of kindness could have a sinister intent.

                If her lack of gratitude offends him, he gives no indication.  His magic continues to keep her warm as they walk through the maze-like gardens.   Natasha does her best to orient herself in relation to the hotel so she isn’t completely at Loki’s mercy.   He moves forward with a purpose, occasionally looking back at her with a carefully neutral expression.  But as they grow closer to their destination, his green eyes begin to darken, and his expression becomes decidedly less neutral—and considerably more hungry. 

                A chill travels down her spine, one that has nothing to do with the freezing environment.  She subtly slides her hand over the slit in her skirt—and the handle of the knife.  She’s not even sure she’d use it given the chance, but its presence comforts her.  It lets her know that she has choices; that she can refuse to play Loki’s game if she wants to.

                But she doesn’t want to.  She wants to play against him—and beat him.

                Loki finally halts beneath the spreading boughs of a large, lovely tree, its branches coated in snow.  He turns to her, keeping his grip on her hand. The shadows of the tree make his eyes look almost black as he studies her.             

                 Natasha finally feels compelled to break the silence.  “Why did you bring me out here?”

                He smirks. “Look up.”

                She warily glances at the branches above their heads.  A spring of mistletoe is hanging directly above them.  A spike of panic goes through her, but she doesn’t let it show.  Instead, she lets out a soft laugh, recalling a story Thor told her once.  “I should have known.”

                She snaps her head down to look at him when he abruptly yanks her against him.  “The plant and I do have a…fondness for each other,” he says, his smirk widening.  “It’s proven a rather lethal ally in the past.”

                Her free hand tightens on the knife.  “Mistletoe can be deadly, if you eat it.”

                His free hand fists itself in her short red curls, the barely contained violence in his touch a sharp contrast to his soft, seductive voice as his face moves closer to hers.  “But a kiss can be even deadlier…if you mean it.”  

                Before Natasha can react, he crushes his mouth to hers.  The kiss is harsh and passionate, almost cruel, and the press of Loki’s body against hers is unforgiving.  His infamous silver tongue slips past her teeth, and the warmth of his magic intensifies to the point where she feels little beads of sweat forming at the back of her neck.  Her initial instinct is to yank the knife from under her dress and stab him, but she resists it.  If she wants to beat the god at his own game, she has to fight fire with fire.

                She returns the kiss, wielding her tongue, lips, and teeth as alternate weapons—sucking, licking, biting at Loki’s mouth, refusing to give in without a fight.  They silently engage in a war for dominance, neither willing to give ground.  Natasha mimics him by twining one hand in his long, inky black hair keeping his mouth from traveling to other parts of her body, her other hand gripping his shoulder to maintain her balance.  He slides his arm around her waist to pull her even closer, but she pushes against him, refusing the contact.  Her lungs start to burn, but she doesn’t pull away.

                Natasha feels a surge of triumph when Loki concedes first, breaking off the kiss to gasp for breath.  She gulps for air as well, lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, but the victory was worth it.  They stare at each other, the still silence of the night broken only by their heavy breathing and the distant sounds from the party.  

                At least, until they hear Thor’s booming voice echoing through the garden.  “Natasha! Natasha! Lady Natasha, are you here?  Brother, if you’ve harmed her, I swear you will pay dearly!”  Loki closes his eyes and lets out a soft, irritated growl.  

                Natasha smirks.  Thor’s arrival means their game is over.  She has won.

                But then he opens his eyes and she realizes she underestimated him—big mistake.  He attacks her mouth again, and his warming magic suddenly vanishes, causing the icy bite of winter to return with a vengeance.  His body is still warm, though, and she finds herself clinging to him against the cold, submitting to his embrace in order to stave off frostbite.  He pins her against the tree, pressing himself into her, and Natasha cannot stop herself from moaning at the increased contact.  

                Loki tears his mouth from hers to nip at her jawline.  His teeth lightly scrape against her neck and she curses softly.  “Damn you.”

                “You should have known better, Natasha,” he murmurs against her throat. 

                She shudders.  She’s lost, and they both know it.  “Yes.  I should have.”

                Loki raises his head and gives her a fierce, triumphant grin.  She blinks and he vanishes, just as Thor rounds the corner carrying her coat.  “Natasha! There you are.”

                Natasha practically bolts to the Thunder God’s side.  “Th-thanks, Thor,” she stammers as he helps her wrap the coat around herself.  

                He frowns.  “Are you alright? Did he harm you?”

                “I’m fine,” she replies quickly, hugging herself in an attempt to get warm.  “He didn’t hurt me.”

                Thor looks around.  “Where has he gone?”

                She shakes her head. “I don’t know.  He vanished right before you arrived.”

                He regards her curiously.  “Why did he lure you outside in the first place?”

                “I don’t know that, either,” she lies smoothly.  Loki would be proud.  “I chased him around the maze, and I’d just caught up to him when we heard you.”

                Thor grins, but she sees the sadness in his eyes.  “Well, if there is no harm done, we should get you back indoors.”  She nods in response and allows Thor to lead her back to the party, but her thoughts are turbulent for the rest of the evening.  Not even the team’s familiar bickering over how Loki got in can put her at ease. 

                 She’s eternally grateful to Tony for insisting that Coulson wait to debrief her until after Christmas.  Lying to Thor is easy, but lying to Coulson takes full control of one’s mental facilities.  If she tried to lie to him in her current condition, he’d see right through her and demand the truth.  And she really doesn’t want the others to know what happened—that she played Loki’s game and lost.  

                She goes home early, wanting nothing more than to sleep and forget this even happened.  But the next morning she opens her eyes to find a Christmas present, wrapped in green and gold, lying next to her head on her pillow.  There’s only one person it could be from.  Heart in her throat, she unwraps it.  

                Inside, beautifully crafted out of the purest crystal she’s ever seen, is a spring of mistletoe.


End file.
